Meant to Be
by writerofberk
Summary: Astrid thinks they're meant to be, but Hiccup is not so sure. Fan tribute for Horrorfan6's "Dragon Tales". Warning, this story is uncomfortably affectionate.


_**Meant to Be**_

 **A/N: THIS IS A FAN TRIBUTE, WRITTEN FOR CHAPTER 1 OF "DRAGON TALES" BY HORRORFAN6.**

 **Everyone read that story, guys, I'm serious, chapter 1 is glorious, and the person who writes them is glorious :3 So, this got really uncomfortably romantic toward the end, and romance is not generally something I write, so if it turned out shitty, I give the original author a huge apology because dude, angst is my forte. Angst is my life.**

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Astrid Hofferson would not be swayed.

For years, everyone she knew had taught her the importance of obtaining a husband; had relentlessly pounded the concept of marriage into her pretty blond head; had reminded her, for every day of her young life, that she was not to inherit the island until she had found a suitable man to help her rule wisely and fairly; had never let her forget that she was to one day find herself starting a family.

But Astrid Hofferson was a stubborn, determined, headstrong girl, and she wasted no time in telling everyone she met that it was a perfectly ridiculous rule, and that she could make decisions concerning the wellbeing of her island with or without a man by her side. Up to the very second that the long-awaited festival commenced, Astrid remained reluctant, and for the first few minutes she had refused to mingle, merely nodding politely when men spoke to her and declining flatly when they asked for a dance.

And then he came.

When he slipped shyly in through the great double doors, hands clasped in front of him, those nearest the entrance fell curiously silent. He wore fine clothes, he was regal and handsome, and when the heiress took him by the hand and began to lead him in a dance, it was revealed that footwork was another art he was well-practiced in.

Astrid spoke to nobody else that night; and when the mysterious suitor departed at midnight, she spoke nothing but praises of him.

The people were thrilled!

The strange man was everything the citizens of the island could hope for, and it was clear that their heiress was deeply in love with him – after only just a night.

When he returned the next night, vanishing once more when the clock struck twelve, Astrid – and the people of Meathead Island – became desperate to know of his true identity. And the third night, when he fled in the same mysterious fashion, he left behind… _his helmet_.

Astrid could not have asked for a better possession!

Upon first glance, every Viking helmet looked the same – and it was true they were all designed similarly – yet each and every one was unique to the person who wore it. When a Viking could not be recognized by face, people recognized their helmet. And surely people would recognize this one! Nobles, heirs, fine men would know this helmet at a glance, she was sure. What he had told her the previous night didn't matter, couldn't matter – he was educated and well-spoken, and even Vikings respected intelligence, to some degree.

She clung to this belief, and repeated it to anyone who would listen, as though trying to cement it for herself.

So when she arrived back upon the island a few days afterward, holding the hand of a lowly servant dressed in rags, the thrill of the heiress finding a husband began to subside a little.

Surely their chief could not be a servant!

The fine clothes, the fine speech, the fine dance, all was forgotten in light of this recent discovery, and all admiration slipped away to make room for cruel judgment. Only the Night Fury stalking protectively at the man's side kept the people quiet – or, most of them.

Yet there were other protestors, and the most prominent and vocal among them was not even counted among her subjects, for the most prominent and vocal among them was—

"Hiccup." Astrid sighed, taking a seat slowly on the edge of the bed and eyeing the man beside her.

He dressed as finely as he had during the festival, perhaps to look the role of the chief he was now expected to be – or perhaps to spare himself the shame he had endured upon arriving back, when everyone had pointed at him and whispered to their neighbors and openly stared.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again – I don't care where you came from; I don't care about your station. All that matters is that I love you."

He shot her such a look of sarcastic incredulity that she knew his next words were going to be the most cutting of the night. "Have you even _looked_ at me?"

"I have," she nodded firmly. "But I don't think we're seeing the same thing."

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before all trace of irritation and anger vanished entirely from his expression, his scowl melting. "Look, it's just…I just don't want…I mean…once you realize what you've done…please don't hesitate to come to me," he finally managed. "I won't keep you. I won't try to force you to stay with me. And I'm not trying to force you to leave me, either." He dropped his gaze to the blankets, a flush creeping up his neck, into his cheeks. "I'm just…I don't want you to…to waste your life on me, Astrid. So if you don't love me, if you don't want to be with me, if there's anything wrong with me in any way, just please don't hesitate in telling me, and I'll leave. I know what I used to be bothers people around here, and if it bothers you, I swear I'll go."

"The only thing that's wrong with you," replied Astrid heatedly, standing up from the bed once more, "is how thick you are. I've told you a million times I don't care, and every time, you disregard it. Does my opinion mean so little to you?"

"No!" Hiccup's eyes widened as he lifted his face to hers. "No, gods, no! You're everything to me, Astrid! You have every right to refuse me—

"And every right to accept you."

There was a silence while they both looked at each other, firm, steadfast sapphire into shy, self-conscious emerald. Hiccup looked away first.

"You don't see what I see," she persisted gently, taking her seat again. There was still a faint pink tinge in her husband's cheeks. "I see somebody…somebody kind, smart, hard-working…brave. I see everything I've ever wanted and more. You're mine. You're my soul-mate, my meant-to-be, my husband, the only man I'll ever love, the only man I'll ever want. The love of my life, to eternity and back again. And nothing is going to change that." She rested her hand against his cheek, the heat of his freckled skin. "I swore it at our wedding, and I'll swear it every day after if I have to. I'll always love you."


End file.
